#non!mc reader

You worked very hard to get away from your sister’s blinding light. Just as hard as you pretended to appreciate MC’s efforts to make friends for you. Those friends never last long and it was humiliating for you more than anything. It was always painfully apparent to you when a person was talking to you because they were asked to. In every one of those forced conversations, your shortcomings compared to her were glaringly obvious. You never made the right jokes, the right references, or smiled the right way. You threw people off, and you were fine with that.

Just before you and her were about to start attending high school with Caleb, Josephine gave into your begging. She enrolled you in a boarding school outside of Linkon. And you left as quickly as you could and stayed far away as long as you were able. MC, and Caleb by association, fought very hard to keep you as if Josephine had forced you to go. You told them it was your choice and that had upset MC so bad that Caleb glared at you for making her cry. As you left, she was being comforted by Caleb, and you figured she’d be fine.

You avoided going home for the holidays that year. MC had begged you to come home. Caleb did, too, but with more restraint. His texts were more about how upset she'll be all winter break than actually wanting you there, but nevertheless, you got almost just as many texts from him as you did from her. The dozens of notifications didn’t convince you that much; they just annoyed you. So, when the day came, you had sent a ‘wish you well’ text to both of them before putting everything on Do Not Disturb to listen to Mariah Carey. Did you feel guilty about it? Yeah, a little. You grew up with her and maybe you felt some affection for her, but you couldn’t force yourself to go back to being a shadow again. It felt good being separate from them. 

The summer after that year was your own personal hell. First and second year students couldn’t stay during the summer break, so you were forced to go home. The moment you’d stepped foot back into the house, MC had attached herself to your side like you were conjoined twins. All day every day you’d been stuck at her side for two months. Caleb, too, but at least he was there by choice. That was one of two darkest times in your life. The second was the following summer when MC did the exact same thing. 

Third and fourth years didn’t have to go home for the summer if they were picked for experiential learning with the local businesses during the school year and had contracts through the break. You fought to get a spot into the program, and managed to stay from home for both years. When the summer before university came, she was subdued and quiet around you. Briefly, you’d considered if she’d grown more sombre in the last two years, but then you saw her with Caleb and figured she’d accepted that you two were never going to be as close as other siblings were.

MC went to the same university as Caleb, and you went to a different one. That summer was the last time the three of you were under the same roof. 

Fitting six people in a five-seater is certainly a feat. A feat that involved too many strong-smelling perfumes and colognes inside a car with no open windows, and loud noises from every side of you. It’s…an experience. You aren’t exactly a social person and everyone around here seems to be. Always nice and smiling. You chose this town after graduation because it’s reclusive. Also, small enough that it didn’t draw attention, but big enough not to know everyone. You hadn’t taken into account how small town people take to new neighbours. 

Everywhere you turn, it seems everyone wants to say hi and ask how you were doing, and at the time you minded it very much. You had enough fake niceties growing up, and now you had no patience for it as an adult. The hi’s and how are you’s got easier to tolerate when you realized these people weren’t so fake. They were just being friendly. Just trying to be nice to you. So, you returned the favour by saying those hi’s and how are you’s back. And eventually those exchanges turned into actual conversations you enjoyed having with what you would now call your friends. They were NPCs but it’s kind of part of their charm. 

So, why had you agreed to cram yourself in a small car for an entire thirty minute drive to Linkon? Karaoke night. The supposedly ‘new tradition’. The town itself didn’t have one but Linkon City did and you fought tooth and nail to avoid going. It didn’t work and they broke you down with their insistent words and pretty smiles. Linkon is a large city anyway. The chances of running into people you used to know is slim. And, if your old assessment still holds to be true, then you doubt they’d ever step foot into a karaoke bar anyway. 

The fresh air when you squeeze out of the car is the freshest air your lungs have ever taken in. Hopefully, on the drive back, you’ll be drunk enough not to choke on Taffy’s jasmine and rose scented perfume. She goes through those 50ml bottles like a child with a bag of candy on Halloween. 

The bar is loud and disorienting. But the promise of alcohol is great and persuasive enough to make you ignore that fact. You’re led with your friends to the room reserved for your lot and almost immediately Taffy takes the stage. She’s good but she’s not Beyonce, so you take one of your friends with you to order rounds for everyone. Micah orders easy shots for the group while you order your own drink. You aren’t a big fan of just vodka shots so you ask for a sweeter drink to take back. The bartender gives you a tired look when you clarify that ‘yes, I want you to mix ice, orange juice, and pineapple juice, in with it— I’m sorry’. The sigh she gives you in response is enough for you to slide her a five dollar tip after; you sympathise with the soul-crushing feeling of realizing you had three more hours to work and will most likely encounter worse customers.  

You and your friend go back to the room where Taffy is somehow riffing with the microphone. Everyone takes turns picking a song and butchering it, and throughout the night you go back and forth for a refill of the drinks. Mainly yours. The bartender sees you enough times that she makes your drink upon seeing you near the counter.

You open up your purse and pull out your walkman. Your friends affectionately call you a historian because of your fascination with practically ancient objects. What can you say? You like the old stuff better. Not that the new technology didn’t have benefits. You put your earbuds in and a song immediately starts playing. One of your favourites. You jump on the stage just as everyone starts pushing for you to go. You sing (badly) along with the song with an enthusiasm that only high levels of alcohol and the music could bring out of you. Only you can hear the background music that goes with it, but everyone is too drunk to care that there’s no sound except your slurring.

You hog the stage for a while until the world seems to have had enough of your singing, and the door slams open loud enough to startle you into stopping. Someone rushes over and pulls the cord from the port. “You need to leave now! There’s a wanderer attack near—” The words were spoken with clear urgency and command, with a voice not unlike yours. Your friends cover your view from the speaker as they crowd around the faceless person with questions and panic arising. You’re slow to pull your earbuds out but everyone else is fast to vacate the room, following the instructions of the lady who has identified herself as a wanderer hunter. You follow after Taffy who’s the last to leave because she’s too busy urging you to come with her. 

Maybe you’re moving too slow for the hunter’s liking, because suddenly a hand wraps around your bicep and drags you forward to the exit. “Hey!” Even though you’ve been said to have the urgency of a walnut and the quick response of a turtle, you still didn’t like being grabbed and led like a dog. You snatch your arm back. “I’m going! I’m going!” 

“Well, you—” The hunter turns as she talks and you both stop as you’re met with a face exactly like your own. The chances were low but not zero. Somewhere beyond this karaoke bar, there’s a god that has a vendetta against you. 

You've checked your hair four times, making sure the heart shaped braids are in good condition. Your outfit was carefully picked out with MC two days ago: a lacey white shirt paired with a dark red velvet skirt, a warm hand knit pink cardigan, and a red beret with a lighter red heart in the middle. You look good in it. You know you look good in it. But you're worried that your date will see how dressed up you are, how dedicated to the theme, that they judge you and force you to put up with their antagonism for the next three hours.

There's a reason you don't date anymore. Guys are just so boring and never take the time to understand you. They would say you do too much, are embarrassing, aren't what they expected when what they expected was a sweet, helpless little wife figure who would treat them like their mother and never bother them with things like personality or individual needs and desires.

You really wish you could hit your exes with a car.

Rafayel's offered, in the past. You're online friend for two years and in person friend for one, you've kept him up to date with the ongoings of your romantic life and he's been all too happy to offer his services in getting rid of these guys. He constantly bemoans your terrible taste in men, and kicks up a fuss when you imply that he's part of that group too.

He's already texted you earlier in the morning to make sure you weren't backing out of your date, having apparently helped MC find the guy you're spending Valentines with, and distracting you with updates on sea gull drama.

If he were a real friend he'd be helping you run away.

Your phone buzzes and you see MC's message saying that she's on her way to pick you up.

Immediately after, Rafayel texts you, saying dont run away from this date or else followed by a sticker of artsy bird holding a knife.

You look in the mirror again, nerves twisting your stomach. This is the part of the first date you hate the most: the nerves, the growing anxiety, the fear of putting yourself outside your comfort zone just to be rejected. On the bright side, it's only three hours if it goes poorly. MC promised to pick you up right at the three hour mark if you texted her a SOS.

Just three hours and then this Valentines Day will be behind you.

Steeling yourself, you look over yourself one more time, slip on your golden bee necklace for good luck, and head to the front door to put on your shoes. You double check that your phone, wallet, and taser are in your bag before putting on a pair of well loved black Mary Janes.

You step outside and lock the door behind you, then wait for MC to arrive.

It only takes a few minutes before she pulls up in front of your house. She parks the car and hurries out to give you a hug, then looks you up and down.

"Girl, if you ever gave me a chance, just know I'd take it. I would be so happy to show off my beautiful girlfriend," she says, adjusting your cardigan to make sure it sits well on your shoulders.

You laugh, rolling your eyes fondly. "Psh, and deny you your harem of male models? As if."

"It's not like that!"

"You're the only one who thinks so."

She puffs her cheeks out in affront and you laugh. "Whatever," she shakes her head. "Come on, you have a date to get to! I promise it'll be good, but if it's not, I'll come get you." She takes you by the hand and walks you down to the car, where she holds open the door for you.

"Thanks. Save your play flirting for someone else, though. They'll appreciate it more than me."

"And miss my chance to flirt with a hot little thing like you? Not likely."

"Hot little thing?" you repeat with a laugh as she gets into the driver's seat. "Way to sound like a creepy old man."

"Mm, yeah, not my best. I'll figure out something better later."

"Spare me, please."

The banter helps ease your nerves as she drives you to your date. She's given you no information on it, and Rafayel had been all too delighted to keep the secret as well, so you're flying completely blind here. You're sure MC would never let you go near a man who isn't good, and her standards are insanely high considering the type of men she has in her life, but not having to plan dates is odd and discomforting. If you didn't plan dates with your past boyfriends, you wouldn't get dates or they'd be the most boring ones ever with silent lunches as burger places and nowhere else.

…Maybe you need to raise your standards instead of just being grateful that someone would bother dating you.

The car turns down the familiar streets of Whitesand Bay. You know very well that this route leads to Mo Studios. Why are you heading there?

You glance at MC who is bopping her head along to the beat of the song blasting from the radio, and decide to let things play out as they are and see what the whole deal is. No need to ask questions now when you're going to get some answers soon.

Just as you had suspected, she pulls up in front of Mo Studio and helps you out of the car. It's embarrassing to admit, but she's more chivalrous than all your exes combined. You're a little flustered by it all, taking the hand she offers to get out of the car. She doesn't let go until you've walked up to the front door, then steps back just in time for Rafayel to throw open the door.

He's grinning a little wildly, hair a bit of a mess, cheeks flushed and a little out of breath. "Hi!" he says, "You're early! Are you early? You feel early. Are you ready for the best date of your life?"

You blink at him, trying to process everything. "…Yes?"

"Great! Come in! Thanks for the escort, Miss Bodyguard, I'll pay you with your weight in popcorn shrimp later."

MC gives him a cheerful little salute, then tells you, "Have fun!" and leaves quickly after that.

Rafayel takes your wrist and pulls you inside. He's dressed up more than usual, silver earrings glinting on his ears and not a single paint stain on his clothes. The studio is in better shape than usual, too. There's no mess and flowers decorate the hall. The beachside patio is even more decorated, full of flowers and lights hanging above your head and strings of origami hearts and cranes crisscrossing over the tile path.

A record player spins, gentle guitar washing over the scene, pairing beautifully with the sound of waves washing up to the shore.

A table has been set up with two chairs, a vase with a pink-white rose in it, and tall candles already lit, the flames dancing lightly in the breeze. There's a serving cart beside the table with many covered plates.

"Are you seriously my date?" you ask as he pulls out your seat. He sets out wine glasses and some red wine from what you're sure is an expensive label, then takes a seat across from you.

"Yeah! Good surprise, right?"

"But… why?"

Rafayel blinks at you, like he wasn't expecting the question. You're not sure why this is surprising. He's Rafayel, famous artist for both his work and his looks. The online friendship you started was the best accident you ever made in your life, and the two of you only knew each other as usernames on a screen for two years before meeting in person, and you almost thought it was all an elaborate prank. Rafayel, your friend? There's no way.

But it was real, just as this is. You just don't see why he would bother with someone like you. He could have anyone, after all.

…Maybe this is just because he wants you to know what a good date is before you start looking for another boyfriend? Like a practice run.

"Why?" he repeats, brow furrowing. You nod. That is the most pressing question you have. "Because I wanted to give you a good date. I wanted to be your Valentine. I didn't want to see you waste time on some mediocre guy who showers maybe once a week when I am right here. I'm right here! I've been here for a while but you never looked!" He pours the wine a little aggressively, then sighs. "So, this date is me trying to convince you to give me a chance."

"What." You don't mean for your voice to come out so flat, but you're feeling so many things that they've all just canceled out to nothing.

Rafayel winces. "That's a no, huh? We barely even started."

"No!" you blurt out. "I mean, it's not a no! I wasn't expecting it! What do you mean you've been wanting me to look at you!"

"Exactly that! I'd be a good boyfriend if you'd give me a chance, but you never looked at me like you wanted anything more than friendship. Which I'm fine with! I'm just happy to have you in my life! But you deserve to be treated better, and loved as you deserve."

You reach for your wine glass and take a small sip to buy yourself some time to find the right words. "And you want to love me right?"

"I do," Rafayel says. There's no hesitation. No embarrassment. Just frank honesty and a vulnerable look to him that has you softening.

You've always been soft on Rafayel, is the thing. Always entertaining his late night texts, his random calls, happy to join him on random trips around Linkon City. You like quiet and don't put yourself out there much. You prefer to have your own space and keep to yourself. Just being friends with MC is a minor miracle that took a lot of work on her part.

But with Rafayel, it felt easy. Conversation flowed like you've known each other your whole lives. You never felt judged by him, and all the teasing carried a warmth that let you know he was just having fun and never meant any harm. No one makes you laugh as easily as he does, and he's confessed to you before that he finds it easy to be honest with you in a way that's impossible with other people.

You're good together. You know this. But that was as friends, without any expectations of more, even if your mind sometimes conjured up the image of what he looks like after being kissed, or what his voice sounds like first thing in the morning, or how comforting it would be to hold his hands as you walked the streets together.

Being friends is safe. This friendship is good and you don't want to lose it.

You don't want to lose Rafayel.

"What if this doesn't work out?" you ask, voice small. "And we stop being friends and lose each other?"

"That will never happen," he says confidently. "If this doesn't work out, then we just go back to being friends. It might be a little awkward at first, but we'll be fine. We'll just be friends with a better understanding of each other. But I really hope this does work out. I want you with me forever. In any way you're willing to stay."

Embarrassingly, you feel tears burn in your eyes.

Your whole life, it's been you're too quiet, can't you be more outgoing, why are you always hiding away, I only asked you out as a joke, just change those ugly parts of yourself and I won't break up with you.

It's never been this whole hearted acceptance. It's never been this genuine care.

Forever sounds good. You'd like forever too, if it's with Rafayel.

You delicately clear your throat, then meet Rafayel's gaze. "Your three hours started at the door, by the way."

"What?"

"You wanted to convince me that you'd be a good boyfriend for me. You have three hours, and that time started at the door."

He stares at you for a moment longer, then grins. "I will be the best boyfriend ever. Just you wait! I have a nice lunch planned for us out here, then a few episodes of our latest hate watch queued up, and chocolate cake in the fridge. I'm going to romance you so hard you'll wonder why you ever put up with anyone else."

You laugh. "I'm looking forward to it."

"And also, as your future boyfriend, the offer to kill your exes is always on the table. Just saying."

You kick him lightly under the table. "Give me my food and save the murder talk for after Valentines Day."

"For our next date then," he says, already reaching for the serving cart.

You smile into your wine glass, taking another sip, and covertly text MC under the table.

Don't come pick me up in three hours. I think he's the one.

the sun hangs high above alighting everything it touches. it shines bright despite its burdens.

still it performs, day after day, feeling warm against your palm, outreached for its presence.

not the kind of heat that scorches your skin in the span of seconds, no, the soft kind. the kind that brings you comfort - it makes everything feel real.

you don’t know how to feel about that.

everyone at one point in their lives had wished to be someplace else. you were one of them. but the appeal was that being someplace else came with a new identity, a new you: a new soul, a new body, a new life, something , anything different than the current, something more appealing in whatever way.

so despite having a new reality, you’re still dissatisfied. you’re still you.

the birds chirp, the wind blows, the leaves rustle. a new day, the same you.

you envy the sun. you envy everyone else for not being you.

you longed for a life in which the reason behind your tear-streaked face would be due to a beautiful tragedy, a noble sacrifice, or maybe both; instead you cry over nothing, you cry about the emptiness in your life, the fatigue of waiting for something you don’t know, where putting yourself in a different role feels less of a burden than the reality you carry: a poet, a knight, a monarch, a lover.

the sun hangs high, time moves forward, and so you must continue under its gaze.

endless repetition, practiced smiles and feign politeness - just enough to keep you out of trouble. you weren’t really the best at connecting with people, so you've mastered the art of faking. rehearsing smiles and radiating artificial warmth in the mirror.

for you weren’t the sun, you were a flickering flame at best.

and thus, any way the wind blows you’ll trail along as smoke carried elsewhere.

transformed, but still carrying the smell of the burn.

the badge hangs on your neck as you sit at your desk going through schematics and blueprints like a machine, making sure that everything is in its right place before starting the trials. you don’t ask questions, just do your job until you’re legally allowed to leave as per contract, so no matter how weird or borderline illegal a project that gets commissioned to the company you work at is, you know to keep your mouth shut - you don’t have the privilege in believing that you would awake the next day after inquiring more than allowed.

you were good at what you did. well, good enough to sustain the lifestyle you were living initially, your client list short but a few…influential. maybe you could have worked harder, built better relationships, networked a bit more, reached out of your comfort zone, climbed the ranks - but you didn’t really see the appeal of challenging yourself. your capabilities didn’t bring you any pride or joy, so you worked just enough to keep your head well above water. notably not much assimilation was required, just some reverse engineering to understand the difference in mechanics, and looking at old repositories and you were already well-adjusted.

just as your pencil writes down its last measurement, your phone vibrates in your pocket. and that was your cue to pack up and leave.

there was something familiar about you. she can’t really tell if she should be disturbed by the empty look in your eyes as she felt you dissect her open like a child with a prettily wrapped gift on the brink of christmas morning with just your gaze alone, as if you knew every thought she’d shove deep into the crevices of her mind and the building blocks of her making, but strangely accompanied by the comfort of being seen for more than just what she could offer on the surface; and maci knows that having that dilemma alone is already too dangerous.

she had came back yesterday to news of a new tenant for an unoccupied apartment she never knew existed in the first place, same floor, just a couple doors down. she felt like she’d remember the only apartment with a grey door like yours, but maybe during the hectic schedules and busy errands it had slipped her mind. she thought she could get to know you, offering to help with moving in and striking up conversation, maybe even be friends (which she begrudgingly admits hadn’t played out as she had hoped).

she stares at your back from the window as she relayed everything to zayne, who had made himself comfortable on her couch after coming over for an impromptu checkup, just to make sure everything was alright following the completion of her mission, as she waved her hands around animatedly to emphasise her point.

“you don’t get it, it was like- like they saw directly into my soul.”

“well, you’re not exactly hard to read.” he added, promptly dodging a pillow directed at him.

he sighed and stood up, making his way next to her looking at you through the glass like an unidentified specimen, his brows pinched. “maybe it’s best to keep distance, second-hand smoke could potentially make your heart condition worse,” he notes just as you killed the flame under the force of your shoe, turning around to head back through the building entrance.

their eyes trail after you.

suddenly, you paused as if contemplating something, before lifting your head and staring directly at them as if you could sense their presence from all the way down there. a beat goes by, a hitched breath, a chill climbing down the spine and then casually you retreat out of their sight.

zayne now understood what she meant.

the next time you run into mc was when you had just completed a grocery store run, looking forward to sitting on the floor eating whatever was discounted in the ready-made section while staring at any corner of the room. she shifted awkwardly, but curiously, like a friendly cat unknowing if its presence would be welcomed, until she finally walked towards you with a million-dollar smile that still carried the ghost of the unsure. this time, you let her approach you, one foot just bypassing the threshold of your doorway.

she calls for you as she nears, rolling on the ball of her feet back and forth as she asks about how well you’ve settled in, and extended an offer of helping if need be. her eyes darted down to the badge still laid atop your work clothes.

“oh wow! you’re part of the company that we commission for weapons!” she exclaims excitedly, promptly following the introduction to her occupation. not like you hadn’t known. slightly entertained, you observe as she hangs onto the one thing that related you both, expressing admiration and wishes for future improvements that you do somehow care enough to remember for next time.

then comes the invitation.

dinner at her place, along with her friend, or coworker, emphasising how beneficial it would be to know your neighbours, just in case. you contemplate.

it’s not like you were worried about deterring a man-made plot, after all, they were merely fictional characters designed for your entertainment, and you would love some right now. besides, you hardly remember what it was about besides chasing the high of being in the place of someone else. so you nodded, and your foot exits your doorway.

her place was lived in, warm, a bit messy but it reflected the balance of chaos and softness that you had made her to be. you set your grocery bag onto the counter as mc chatters in the back to fill in the silence, and make eye contact with xavier. he sits there stand-offishly, clearly taken a back by the unplanned addition to the party.

you hadn’t exactly expected to feel anything when you thought about the hypothetical situation in which you would encounter the love interests, but part of you still yearns to understand the feeling of what it’s like to be attracted to someone, to want to devote your life to someone, the foundation that built every song, the feeling that drives every story. and so when you looked at the love interest, all you felt was disappointment - disappointed for not even a small ripple of emotion described by others took place within you. so, you sighed and your eyes locked on mc’s form once again.

maci mistook your expectant gaze and hurriedly scurried to your side, looping her hand through the crook of your arm in a familiar fashion, leaning into you as she excitedly introduced xavier to you. and you once again feigned ignorance, giving him a more or less disinterested glance while he tensed up at the proximity between you and mc, observing the dynamic between the two. she gets even more chipper when it came to introducing you, delightfully declaring you as the newest neighbour on her floor close in age. “it’s such a crazy coincidence that they work for the company that designed and produced the latest batch of our weapons! we can even give them suggestions on improvements directly without having to go through the dreaded and painstaking official reports every time,” she mused.

you tilt your head, eyes darting between the confused and wary expression on his face as he witnesses mc’s overshare of information to a complete stranger, to the overt fervour that drips from her voice as she rambles about everything and anything. and perhaps, for the first time you felt a touch of fondness for someone, a kind of endearment similar to the likeness that comes from witnessing your pet curry favour with you by acting cute.

this was the most entertaining thing you’ve witnessed as of late.

xavier sees the small lopsided smile you donned despite the faraway look in your eyes as maci continues to go off on a tangent, the feeling of discomfort grows heavy in his chest. he’s never really seen maci act in this matter, she was sweet and kind - he knows and he adores that about her, it felt like a countering balance to his quiet and reserved demeanour, but she was never this unguarded in what she shares. they were hunters after all, the survival skills built from a foundation of experiences and betrayals, they know better. so he truly feels unsettled as maci unravels every aspect of her life, and the unintentional gleam that shines in her eyes every time you made any signs of acknowledgement. and that feeling amplifies even further on the rare occasion in which your eyes would meet his and it felt like you were looking through them, a detached sense of leisure as if you were watching a play.

there was no immediate indication that proves you a threat, yet he continues being on alert even as he offers tensed replies to maci’s prompting, and maybe a hint bit of smugness as she mentioned their natural affinity in their earlier days of working.

“yeah, it’s almost like you’ve known each other for lifetimes.”

his head snaps to your direction at your offhanded comment as maci giggles and jokingly agrees, his eyes wide against the uninterested expression on your face. who are you?

this was just so entertaining to you.

amber burns at the cigarette end hanging from your lips. you’ve tried excusing yourself to leaving mc’s place by needing a smoke, but she had relentlessly insisted that you used her balcony, even providing you a precious cartoon character porcelain mug to put the cig butts in. you almost feel guilt for the extent of her hospitality so far contrasting your level of enthusiasm in engaging with them. you can tell the love interest on the other side of the glass had fully expected for some personal time with mc, a small celebration following an accomplishment of sorts, you assumed, and your intrusion had seriously thrown him off.

mc gives both your hands a squeeze as you bid her goodnight, disregarding the smell of smoke clinging to you as she made you promise to join her social circle by introducing you to more people, even more ecstatic when you had agreed without much needed convincing. and as she waves at you like a little kid, a big smile on her face while the door closes, you make eye contact with the male standing behind her while he watches you leave with furrowed brows.

finally, something to look forward to.

heyyyy,, hiii, been a while innit :'D im slowly trying to ease back into the writing swing bc holy shit social media fatigue is so real i feel like im just rotting away QAQ.